It’s Friday morning, fully two weeks post-operation and the recovery is coming along nicely, or so I’m told. At the moment my right foot is so swollen I could barely get my slipper on, which is actually a size too big.
It’s normal, the visiting nurse says. My right leg had some serious trauma. Well, ok, so I park in the comfy chair and sleep for a few hours, the right leg and foot elevated and voila! The swelling is down! But, when I wake, the pain in my chest is bearing down on me like a dead weight. So, I hobble to the bathroom, where the 15 different meds I take are kept and wolf down another Vikodin.
Yes, the visiting nurse and the telephone nurse have assured me. That is Vikodin I’m taking for pain. But I looked it up on the Internets and how can Wikipedia be wrong?
After open-heart surgery, your body aches in ways and places you had no idea; armpits for instance. What the Hell is in your armpits that could ache? Don’t know, I’m somewhat afraid to ask, but indeed, both armpits have a dull pain.
When sleeping in the comfy chair, which is all the time, I try to position my arms so they aren’t spread away from my body. A couple days ago it became apparent resting my arms on the arms of the chair was not all that comfortable, especially in the armpits, so I don’t do that anymore.
It’s all about protecting the sternum. If that doesn’t heal properly, gets out of whack, it can cause problems. So many muscles are attached to the sternum and ribs, if the breastbone is not aligned properly your entire upper body can have issues. When I turn my head in either direction, I can feel the muscles tighten in my chest. If I lean forward I can feel the muscle tighten or contract, depending on which muscles.
Think of those nice beef or pork ribs we like to munch on at out favorite bistros, the tender meat all gooey with sauce. Well, we have all those muscles too and they have functions. Cracking your chest open for open-heart surgery gives you the opportunity to know those muscles exist and function.
Twice around the parking lot here is a 15-minute walk. That’s about all I can muster at one time, considering the hilly nature of the terrain. In healthier times, the slight hills wouldn’t even be noticeable, but, in cardiac recovery, walking up those two inclines is quite a feat. Conversely, the second half of the walk is downhill.
What’s interesting though is the tightness of my glutes as I walk. For several years now the main mode of motion has been pedaling the Trusty Trek, as fine a vehicle as I have ever owned. Apparently, pedaling a bike has a different range of motion using different muscles. In other words, my butt hasn’t had this type of work out in a while. Maybe I’ll develop buns of steel!
But this is cool though; the reason the Trusty Trek became so trusted is that while walking severe pain and numbness would develop first in my left leg and then in the right leg. Since the operation, this hasn’t happened at all. Pre-op, the pain and numbness would start within five minutes. So far, that condition has not occurred. Not even Sunday when I walked for 27 minutes along Lake Miramar.
Every day I am reminded how this operation has improved my life, despite the immediate pain involved with the recovery. It’s a pain in the ass — literally some days — sleeping in the comfy chair, not being able to put on shoes and socks is embarrassing and humbling, having my foot swell up to the size of a nurf football is excruciating, being somewhat under the influence of a pain medication like Vikodin is frustrating, but whenever I engage in a recovery activity like walking around the parking lot, the reasons for enduring these and any other so-called indignities are given to me as a reward for getting up, suiting up and doing the next indicated thing.
After cruising through FaceBook, reading that we are expecting rain in Sunny Sandy Eggo, I put this screed aside to get in my walk; it is too important to miss and rain would be such a wonderful excuse not to do it.
Wonderfully enough, on FaceBook I am connected to young Heidi, who just had surgery on her back. One of her latest posts was about walking to the bathroom from her room unaided by a walker or wall. What a great victory for Heidi. Accomplishments like these seem small, almost inconsequential, but for those who are in that recovery, these are major milestones in our recovery.
Soon, I would imagine, Heidi will be walking everywhere without her walker and we might get the idea that everything is just dandy! She will be much better physically of course, but she will know exactly where her body is in the scale of recovery. We might look at her and assume she’s back 100%, but she would probably have a different answer.
Right now, I’d say I’m about 10%. In two months, should all continue as it is, maybe I’ll be at 50-60%! Next time I see Heidi I hope we get a chance to compare notes. It will be good for our hearts and souls.
Now the foot is beginning to swell up a little so it’s time to finish, but the recovery continues.
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